The Harrowing Adventures Of
by Xyliette
Summary: Kevin and Addison attempt to sort through their muddied relationship. Set after the 210 fun. Kevin/Addison.
1. you and I before our eyes lay upon

A/N: Someone had to do it? Apparently I am attached to this ship...or maybe just their dysfunction. Two parts with any luck, though heaven knows how I tend to get sidetracked. And just a short little thank you to everyone who has been around this year, I've appreciated your feedback through the months of crazy stories I can't let go of. Hope you all have a wonderful, safe New Year's. Enjoy-

**_~-~-~-~-~-~  
The Harrowing Adventures Of...  
- Tokyo Police Club  
~-~-~-~-~-~_**

Kevin eyes his girlfriend suspiciously as she struggles to get the black purse over her shoulder while balancing a steaming cup of morning coffee. He wants to reach out and assist but it's not his place. Not this morning, maybe not the next. Walking out on people takes away things once so commonplace that he aches for them. "Addison?"

"Great," she mutters with a over exaggerated eye roll. This morning has been absolutely fantastic. Not only is she dealing with an epic hangover the likes of which she hasn't felt since college but apparently the world also hates her enough to send the cause behind the two bottles of lonely red wine.

He follows her into the elevator uninvited, hoping that no one else arrives inopportunely. "I..."

"I'm not going to apologize," she decides firmly, last night's drinking having worked through the whole damn relationship, all of its faults, and all of the reasons why she is fully ready to get over the asshole to her left. "I didn't do anything wrong."

He nods. "I believe...you think you were helping...and I jumped all over you." Everyone's perception is this world is different, but it doesn't mean that people aren't fools along the way.

It was a nice thing to do if you ask her. And a pain in the ass to try and figure out how to give her cleaning lady directions into the smoggy San Fernando Valley which, as far as she's concerned, may as well be another planet. She clenches her jaw and waits for him to continue through the rest of the thirty second ride. What she doesn't expect is his hand reaching out to jab at the stop button.

"I'm...not good at letting people take care of me," Kevin admits, hoping that maybe it will ease the tension of the confined space. "It's a long, boring, melodramatic story, a product of my upbringing and I just wanted to let you know that I am sorry for the way I reacted and that sometimes I'm human and susceptible to my overly inflated ego." He glances up at her challenging glare. "We come from different worlds Addison. I wish...it was different but there's a reality here we can't escape." He licks his lips and trails out hesitantly, "Maybe we could overcome it though."

Then he releases the frozen elevator after she finds more interest in her cellphone than in his attempted reconciliation.

"You hurt me," she reveals, still refusing to look at him or take off the massive sun blocking glasses. "You hurt me when I did nothing wrong, because you don't feel good enough anymore. Because for some odd reason you think I believe the world is encased in a candy coated shell where, if I pay enough, things are always bright and shiny. Do you know what I do for a living? Do you understand how many people I've watched die helplessly?" Caging the bubbling rage and possible reaction of vomit she sighs, "Money doesn't fix that so stop trying to make me out to be someone I'm not."

He presses a few fingers to the bridge of his nose, feeling the situation worsen, not wanting to acknowledge that he is very much in love with someone he doesn't know in any way shape or form. "All I can say is sorry Addison."

"I need time." she says as loudly as possible, voice still barely above a whisper, head trying to explode from the hazy drought. "Just...give me some space."

"Whenever you're ready," he agrees easily, his heart wrenching as she dodges out of his attempted kiss on the cheek and prepares to bury herself in the non-existent patients flitting through the hallways. It takes him the entire ride home to calm down and when he enters the dark, now spotless house, he knows he made a mistake.

He went from loving to judging in a week flat. Money, he affirms later with a room temperature beer in hand, does funny things to people.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

Every officer, as his luck would have it, involved in a shooting (whether it be of them or the perpetrator) is required to have some sort of psychiatric follow up. To ensure that they haven't gone all post traumatic stress disorder or now have some personal vendetta against a person of a certain height, weight or color. So that apples are still apples and not oranges and to make sure no one else will be on the receiving end of his 9mm Smith & Wesson.

He obliged to the whole ordeal without a lot of grumbling because really anything that helped him get back to work was as good as gold in his book and set about making an appointment with the normal guy at the department. And it wasn't like he took out an innocent civilian. He got shot. It was an expected part of the job, especially in Los Angeles.

So when the normal guy up and decided to take a vacation in the middle of November and he was told to find someone else or he was going to be stuck behind a desk for a few weeks, he did the only thing he could think of.

"Come in," Violet says warmly and holds the door open for him, the rest of the office mercifully dark.

"Thank you for doing this," Kevin mumbles, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. "I was looking, and I saw your name and-"

"It's not a problem." She sits, with her pencil poised just in case this turns out to be actually interesting, and crosses her legs. "So why don't you tell me what happened?"

"I got shot," Kevin laughs easily and presses a sweaty palm into his clean jeans. It feels good to be out of sweats and undershirts. It feels horrible to be in a room with a couch and a person who writes down your thoughts, questioning events they will never be privy to.

"How?" Violet pushes, yawning.

"Wrong place, wrong time," Kevin answers without second thought.

"I see. Have you had any feelings of-"

"No," he cuts in, the loneliness of another non-Addison day heavy on his mind. Day three to be exact. "This is a formality. So, let's just sign off or call or fax...or whatever it is that we have to do."

"Kevin," Violet says patiently. "I know this is required but humor me. I tend to take my job seriously and I like to make sure people are actually okay when they say they are. Just relax, there are no wrong answers here. What happened?"

His fingers rub the denim again, unsure of what to say exactly, how technical to get. "We got a call. Went out there and I decided to branch off like an idiot and got hit."

"You usually take those kinds of risks?"

"It's my job," he replies defensively.

"So you decided to pursue the individual alone?"

"Individuals," he corrects. "My guys had...most of them were in one part of the...warehouse but the one, we've been trying to get him for years now...I had a hunch and it paid off."

"You got shot," Violet tells him.

"Yes, but we got him," he exhales exasperated. It's not the whole truth and it reads plainly across his flustered face.

"Ever happened before?"

"Being shot?"

"Injured in the line of duty?" Violet elaborates.

"No," he shakes his head. "First time for everything."

"How does that make you feel?" She relies on the old standby for the sake of it. He smiles again and Violet can kind of get why Addison seems to be so enamored with the guy. He's cute and charming in the most vanilla plain sort of way.

"Kind of makes me feel like a moron," he laments.

"Why is that?"

He looks around her office, eyes flitting left to right, up and down and he hears her ask the question again. This woman has ways. He should've just waited until IAG threatened to suspend him or the Chief breathed down his captain's throat. "Because it never should've happened to begin with."

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

Addison swirls her pen around again and stares out at the vast expanse of details slowly losing her focus entirely. She's not that woman. The weak one who goes running back to wounded men for fear of being utterly alone all the time...except she kind of is sometimes and the only thing she wants to do is call Kevin up and ask him to please come hug her bad day away. She needs his tight embrace.

One dead mother, one dead baby boy and a overly emotional father have taken their toll on her and she's positive if this was something she was still dealing with everyday it would be a non-issue, but her concrete wall has been chipped away by the Oceanside routine and that closet ten feet away is looking better and better with each line of scribble she gets out.

"Montgomery," Charlotte King bellows behind her. "What the hell happened in there?"

Addison shoves the chart forward, unable to use her words, and reaches out for her cellphone. Sometimes barriers need a little help. "Excuse me."

Three rings in and she's tempted to hang up but then there's a warm voice on the other end. "Nae?"

"Addison, where are you?"

"St. Ambrose. Mrs. Jones...it was...can you meet me-"

She's cut off by the affirmative and taps the end key without a goodbye. She takes the offered log of her mistakes back and signs off on the stupidity. Weighted with loss and destroyed families it lolls in her hand, waiting for something.

"Montgomery- you okay?"

"Yup," she grins pathetically, "I'm good."

"It wasn't your fault. Preexisting condition." Charlotte leaves it simple, understandable. Busy isn't her style. "I'll deal with Mr. Jones, I'm sure you're busy over there at Oceanside today," she tacks on carelessly, letting the insinuation hang blatantly in the air.

Instead of duking it out with the shorter woman Addison drops her failure on the counter and heads for the door she came in four short hours ago.

She was a different person then. Not recently humbled by death, and slapped with the inability of her skills.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Just call him," Naomi groans out by the ocean, digging her heels into the sand.

"I can't," Addison tells her. "I physically cannot bring myself to do it."

"Because he won't apologize?"

"No," Addison jumps in immediately. He has apologized, probably more than he should have.

"This is unequivocally one of the stupider fights you've ever engaged in Addie. He doesn't want you to clean his house, leave it alone and move on. Hell, be happy he knows how to clean up after himself already and doesn't need the help." Naomi shakes her head. People should try on some real problems not this reality television bullshit.

"It's more than that," Addison gives in. "He thinks I...am a controller."

"You are!" Naomi accuses with her finger.

"Yeah but-"

"But nothing. You have always been a bit of a control freak and you know what? After the whole Derek/intern thing, no one blames you. I'd be on the lookout too. You can't help it but you can't take it out on Kevin either. Different guy, different relationship. Find a compromise."

"I was helping him, I...was trying to get him to stay..." she looks longingly at her now empty cup. "It was nice having him here."

"So why don't you say that? Why don't you tell him that you wanted a few more nights with him around?"

Addison grumbles and stands up to find more alcohol. "I always ruin everything."

"No, you're just...you and you act quickly, often times without serious concern of consequences."

"Naomi!" She shouts incredulously across the patio while refilling her cup. Her friend has the most amazing way of making personal attributes sound like certain disaster.

"It's true," Naomi shrugs. "You need to call him."

"I told you I can't!"

Naomi roots around the small table next to her and finally comes up with a phone from underneath the mess of their discarded dessert. "You can and you will. And then you will be to the point and-"

"I'm not apologizing," Addison interrupts.

"Oh, of course not. Heaven forbid."

"Nae," Addison whines pitifully and sinks back into her sand covered chair. It's deeper than the apology and the regret. She can't seem to do relationships anymore. She's ruined, a bruised piece of fruit left to rot on the road in the hot summer sun.

"That won't work on me." Naomi tosses the phone onto Addison legs and fixes her with a stern glare. "Time to grow up Addie."

"Fine," she mumbles, dialing the familiar numbers. He answers on the first ring before she can rethink anything and her mouth has him invited over just as quickly.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

Addison paces through her house like a barefoot wildfire, knowing that it's going to take him at least thirty minutes to arrive but still intent on worrying the hell out of those painful seconds. She organizes books, shifts vases inches to the left and then back to the right, and attempts a pass at a book before giving up and returning to running a hole into her new rug.

True to her calculations the doorbell signals his arrival fifty-one tiring minutes later. "Hi," she stutters inadvertently. "Thanks for coming."

"I'm glad you called. I've missed you."

"I've missed you," she blurts out, aided by liquor lubrication at the same time. They share an awkward nod and then she fixes a seat on her couch, tempting him to take the place across the room. "I guess we have to talk about it now."

"Yeah."

"I've never...I'm not really, ugh...It's just...the thing is Kevin...I was kind of trying to keep you here. And not because I don't think your place is nice and not that I don't want to see it one day, I was...it was nice having you here. It was nice having something to come home to instead of taking the longest possible route home and praying for traffic madness." She shakes her own head, chiding her rambling and holds her breath until he speaks. Twelve years of marriage, a few boyfriends, and one would swear she'd be better at this sort of thing. When he doesn't pipe up she dives back in. "I'm a mess...I'm a messed up person but my intentions...they were good. I need you to believe me. You have to believe me."

"I do," he says softly, unsure if she is done. "I didn't...but I do now. It took me that while to get it. I'm sorry I was such an...ass. I shouldn't have left like that-"

"It's okay," she jumps in. Addison forgives outwardly with great ease. More easily than she should, even when it lays dormant below the surface. "You thought I was insulting you, where you come from."

"And in the process, I did the exact same thing to you," he pieces together. "God, I hate Archer."

Addison laughs loudly, breaking the tension. "Yeah...I get that response a lot."

"Call it a truce?" He stands and offers a hand.

"Yes, please," Addison answers without pausing to think. He's the best thing to happen to her since moving out here and if there's one thing she knows how to do it's fight like hell for the few people who seem to genuinely care about her.

Kevin smirks as she crosses the room to him, "I think this is the part where we make up."

Her lips attach to his as soon as she is close enough and as her hands loop around his neck, nervously beating chests pushed together, she pulls back to whisper, "My favorite part."

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

Kevin shuffles into the dark office just as Violet shrugs her coat around her shoulders. "Dr. Turner?"

"Oh," Violet nearly screams, jumping with her hand pressed to her heart. "I didn't think you were coming back."

"Sorry I'm late. I was with Addison," he clarifies. Trying to wiggle out of being with her for their second night rekindled proved to be more difficult than he thought. In the long run he had to fake an emergency work situation and lied through his white teeth to be here. And...he needs to be returning soon.

"Ok," Violet smiles gingerly and flops her light coat over the back of the couch, searching for something to write on.

When she sits and relaxes into the chair Kevin begins, "She hasn't said she loves me yet."

"Who-"

"Addison," he tells her before she can even finish the thought. "She said if I gave her time...she wants to be together...and I was tactless about my words the first time but I thought...after our...fight thing."

Violet presses her lips together. Last session ended promptly with him telling her it was none of her business and that she wouldn't understand the inner workings of police code without living it herself. Nothing about her co-worker and frankly it's not an area she is presently comfortable with but it is obviously something that is bothering her patient so she's torn. Rocket-shipped into a very gray area that makes her squirm. "Well why do you think she hasn't...responded."

"She's been hurt. She's a little fragile...I get it, I do."

"You just want it to be different?" she asks patiently.

"Yeah, I guess," he mumbles, suddenly aware of what they are talking about.

"Well, you need to figure out if you can live without hearing her say it, or if it's a breaking point for you."

Kevin's face puzzles inadvertently. "She's worth waiting."

"Solves that then," Violet says more than relieved. "Now I'd like to get back to what you said last session, about-"

Kevin runs a few fingers up his own arms, tracing the faint red scratches Addison's nails left while she was busy screaming underneath him. He smiles briefly remembering just how good she is at the making up part. "I was thinking about her," he laments painfully and then shoots out another clarifying, "Addison," when his therapist doesn't follow.

"It's common to think of those who are important to you when faced with trauma," Violet tells him easily. Really is everything always about that damn redhead?

"No, no. I was thinking about Addison when I got shot. That's why I wasn't able to get out of the way in time."

"Oh," Violet whispers. "What were you thinking about?"

"Her brother...just, the stuff he said. I didn't know a few key things about Addison and he felt the need to give me the lay of the very expensive land. I was thinking about how we couldn't possibly work...her insane trust fund and my salary do not go together."

"Why not?" Violet pushes gently.

"She has more than I will ever dream of making in my lifetime...and I feel...useless," he pauses his shoulders mid-shrug and then slouches back against the couch. "Anyway, that's why...it happened."

"And now?"

"Fully recovered," Kevin says proudly almost reaching for his shirt to show her the battle scar before realizing how inappropriate that may be considering she is not one of the guys.

"And Addison?"

"We're good," he says warmly. "Talked and all that. I think we are good."

"Talking fixed your salary?" Violet asks curiously. She knew she should always harbor ill will toward the taller co-worker, or at the very least some sweet jealousy.

"No," he says slowly putting it together, "we can...I need to get over that. It's not like she asked for twenty-five million dollars for her first birthday and someone forked it over. It's...not a big deal."

Violet's mouth gapes, unable to stop the slack from happening. She swallows heavily. She'd pet monkeys for a living with that kind of money. God, she'd never work another day in her life. Addison would be one hell of a case study. "Ok."

"Ok?"

"Yeah, ok. I'll give my approval first thing tomorrow."

"That's it?"

"Yeah," she stands back up, sturdy in the fact that Kevin is completely fine, even with his neurotic plate full.

"No more?"

"You want there to be more?" Violet asks without hesitation. She's got some free time this week and he's not half bad.

"No,"

"Well have a goodnight then Kevin. Go enjoy...and don't lose your focus next time there's bullets flying."

"Will do," he grins at her and jams his hands into his pockets neglecting the one thing that he needs to say.

He blames her, Addison, for his wounds. It's childish and illogical but his heart is kind of stuck on it. If it wasn't for her he'd have a few less pages in his work file, no insurance companies breathing down his throat about what they do and do not cover in hospital stays, and less nagging in the back of his head saying that no matter how much he wants this thing to work out with her it never will. "Night Dr. Turner."

"Violet," she corrects, ushering him out and shutting the door behind her as they make their way to the elevator.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Kevin?" Addison questions for the fifth time since he's been back at her house.

"Hmm...yeah?" His eyes find hers suddenly, realizing how much he was drifting off.

"You okay?"

"Yes," he lies straight to her face. "The work thing...was a little disturbing. Sorry."

"Oh." Her face softens at the mention of his very important job and she gently turns him around, pressing her agile hands into his shoulders. A low groan escapes his throat twenty seconds later and she giggles lightly. "Do you want to take this upstairs? I give an excellent full body massage."

"Addison-" he starts flipping around to face her.

"I know," she puts her hands in the air in resignation, "you don't live here but I would like you to stay tonight, please?"

"Alright," he agrees, liking her understanding and really looking forward to her warm hands...everywhere. He drags them both up off the couch, catching her drift when she tugs up on his belt loops and begins sucking on his neck. He pushes her backwards toward the stairs, guiding her path, and trying to get over it but unable to stop himself. "I love you."

She gulps, hearing the words that make her lips quiver and knees shake. She attempted to rationalize it but she couldn't and there's this small portion of her that's irrationally angry. He doesn't know her, and the loving thing, it seems anyway, almost patronizing and placating whatever sense of relationship duty he has. "I-"

"I know," he smiles, easing the sudden halt. "Now let's get those fingers to work, shall we?"

She nods, tears trying to escape, damn memories flooding back through her head. "Yeah."

They stumble through the steps up, feet catching sometimes painfully on the hardwood, her back slamming into the banister as soon as they reach the flat landing one fourth of the way up. Slowly they etch a path through her home, each wanting to overlook the little details that will soon be bringing them to their knees once again.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**


	2. led me to your old home

A/N: Added a part to help make sure this chapter isn't mind numbingly long and because planning is probably one of my most underdeveloped skills. I'm sad if you don't see this horrible plot twist coming up on the horizon but Addison _so_ has a crush and Wyatt is damn fun. Enjoy-

**_~-~-~-~-~-~  
The Harrowing Adventures Of...  
- Tokyo Police Club  
~-~-~-~-~-~_**

It was explained to her more than once. Carefully laid out in selective terminology at the age of six and then again at sixteen. That which giveth also taketh away.

Money breeds opportunity, lifestyles, and achievable dreams. It sours personal relationships and causes controversy amongst the envious. It's not a difficult concept, she just believed for a great deal of time in the human power to overcome. That something that she had so little control over would, in  
effect, rule over her life was not something she was comfortable with or willing to concede to.

So she fought. A mighty fight, glamorous and glitzy, cheating her heart, stealing her mind.

Sometimes you aren't meant to win. And it is that simple.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"What are you thinking about?" Kevin asks, picking her least favorite question in the entire universe straight from the salty breeze.

"Nothing," she assures him and rests her head against his cozy shoulder.

He's a mighty, knowledgeable protector. In a class of his own. But he's a civil servant too and she's never been a slave to anyone like that.

He kisses her forehead lightly, almost enjoying her tenseness and how their bodies magnetize against one another, fueling the angry energy. It should be said aloud. The shooting should be talked about, if with anyone, than her. That's what she's there for - support and love. Except she doesn't love him and he's certain she's not strong enough to support anyone but herself right now (for whatever reasons she's not disclosing). "Ok."

Then she falls to the old standby of last week. She kisses a slow trail up his neck, taking her time because it's early and she doesn't want pillow talk while she tries to drift off to a dreamless sleep; the kind where it feels like only ten minutes have elapsed in the last eight hours. Her lips soften with the familiarity and they're good at this, it's easy. But physical connection can only get one so far in a relationship, and if there is anything she has learned from her mucky past, it's that.

He melts into her gentle touch, allowing the charade longer than necessary. "How long are we going to do this Addison?"

"Do what?" she purrs, voice purposefully low and tainted with the air of seduction.

He pulls back sharply, throwing her off balance and left to scurry out a palm for anchoring. "You know what."

"Kevin-"

"I can't keep...on like this. We should talk about it."

"We've talked about it," she argues. "Now we wait for it to pass."

"Wait for it to pass?" he questions more than skeptical. What in heaven's name does that even mean? He likes black and white. Rules, guidelines, procedures with minimal room for discretion. And she is everywhere at once, like a hurricane. It's unnerving and he's never been like this over a woman before. Leave it to him to wait thirty or so years before diving into a serious relationship.

"We're going to argue sometimes Kevin and it may take time to readjust but we will. We will get it back."

"Right," he mocks, scooting even further away from her.

"I want this to work," she objects, reaching a few fingers out to clasp with his. Upon contact she realizes it won't be enough. People resort to desperate measures when backed into a corner, and the idea of losing this wonderful man in front of her is just enough to cause, "I love you," to come roaring out of her red mouth.

"I love you too," he grins weakly, trying not to notice how she seems to grimace. He kisses her palm patiently. "We wait."

"We wait," she affirms, finding her little hiding spot again and settling down to watch the ocean in a forced but agreed upon silence.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"It's not working," Addison admits over a lonely cup of coffee in her friend's office.

"I'm sorry," Naomi sends halfheartedly across the room. She's got enough on Addison and her man debacles to write a New York Times best selling book.

"You're not."

"You knew better," Naomi counters and searches her desk again for the damn file that seems to have sprouted legs and wandered away.

"And yet you said I should try. That I was too picky." Addison rolls her eyes and crosses her legs, plucking the correct papers poking out onto the corner of the surface in front of her.

"I wanted you to be happy. You deserve to be happy."

"That could be said about anyone in the world."

"I think," Naomi pauses reading over a few scribbles, "there are still a few people I wouldn't wish well."

"I said it," Addison laments, steeling herself for the attack.

"Broke it off?"

"No, _it_ it. I said it."

"Oh God...do you?" Naomi finally perks up, beyond interested. Living vicariously through Addison has always been at the very least entertaining although at times redundant and anguishing.

"No...I mean, I don't know. I could. I could. I...need time."

"Maybe you need-"

"Don't say it," Addison warns with her hands poised into a halt sign.

"You know it's true," Naomi teases.

"Maybe," she admits, drifting off to the horrible place in the back of her mind with all the memories of past flames and long lost loves. Dusty roads of backseats and steep slopes muddily laced with adultery and hurt.

"You can't marry the first one out of the gate Addie. It's a search, it's not meant to be effortless."

"I...just," she shakes her head to herself and swallows the tears bubbling up.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing. I need to stop thinking about it. He's great. I'm great. This works."

Naomi nods understandably, "He's out there somewhere."

"Who?" Addison chokes out, clasping her hands tightly together. She doesn't like visiting the bad place, especially at work, where breakdowns are hard to conceal and a source of coffee pot gossip.

"The right one."

"And if he's in Seattle with the intern?" She wonders sometimes. All those years, all of the events, holidays. There was love there, somewhere.

Naomi glances out her glass door, staring at the small pack of doctors down the hall. "I don't know." She considers briefly, "But I can't believe that it's about Derek. If you want this to happen, make it. If not, then let it go, and soon. Don't torture yourself anymore because you're way beyond the just having fun stage."

Addison scratches her short, polished thumbnail into the skin on her forearm. It's difficult to not look at the situation and be angry at herself. Because chances are, even thought the marriage was mostly plain shit and a helluva façade, they'd still be together. And she wouldn't be out here, trying to date. Trying to be unaffected and issue-less. Compatible and ready while she's really terrified and neurotic.

She's a byproduct of many things - loses, failures, and mistakes but Addison believes in the human power to overcome. She has to. "Right."

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Oh...Kevin," Violet grins, slapping her next patient's chart down onto the counter top in reception. "You can go back, Addison is in her office. I just passed by there."

"Actually, I'm here to see you," he looks at the ground, jamming his hands into his pockets. "Not...for a session, not right now. I was hoping to maybe set something up. I don't want Addison to know though, so if you-"

"Doctor-patient confidentiality," Violet assures him, slapping his shoulder friendly.

"I heard you were out here," Addison smiles broadly, sweeping toward the pair. "Anything interesting?" she asks pointedly staring at Violet's case.

"No, I was just...following up on the case Violet asked me about a few weeks ago," Kevin reacts quickly, surprising himself. He never thought it would be this easy to lie to someone you care so deeply about. Lesson learned.

Addison nods and he lets her wrap her arms around his neck, doing his part by cordially kissing her cheek. It's a thing, a greeting that he kind of dislikes. It's pompous and restrained, tight hugs and lips brushing lightly over tanned cheeks. Not his deal. "Lunch?"

"Sure," he agrees, "Bye Violet." She awkwardly waves him off, almost dumping her cup of tea down the front of her shirt and Kevin can't help but think he should be dating someone a little more like her. Someone not so sugar refined and precise, but occasionally lumped and worn.

"So...what do you have in mind because I only have about an hour before my next patient."

He winds an arm around her waist, pulling her close when more people join them in the elevator but before he can get a word out the tall, dark haired man next him speaks.

"Hey Monty, who's the guy?" Wyatt asked, blatantly interested.

Kevin watches Addison roll her eyes at the nickname and wonders how they know each other.

"Kevin, this is Wyatt, an arrogant wannabe who works on the floor beneath us and Dr. Lockhart, this is Kevin, my boyfriend." Addison smirks proudly, watching his face drop.

"Harsh," Wyatt contemplates, "But not without some truth. Kevin," he reaches his hand across the elevator, not bothering to notice the poor woman between them, "Nice to meet you. You better hold onto this one tight. She's a precious commodity around these parts."

"Will do," Kevin responds and pulls back before the elevator can kick them all off on the lobby floor.

"You know, I was just headed out to grab a quick bite to eat, would you two care to join me?" Wyatt asks, enjoying watching Kevin squirm in anticipation.

"No, thank you," Addison decides for them instantly. No one voluntarily signs up for that kind of torture except...Kevin, who answered at the same time as her with the opposite. She grimaces as she's whisked out the doors and toward a café down the street.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Your friend is-"

"An manipulative son of a bitch," Addison finishes for him, as she walks him back to his squad car. He's on road patrol for the week (while he gets back into tip-top shape) and detesting every second of it.

"Well, I wouldn't have put it that way," Kevin laughs, stomach full from an overpriced meal that he picked up the entire tab on. He felt the need to step up, he feels it constantly around her people. One day it'll catch up with him.

"Thank you for...dealing with that." She leans up to peck his lips. "I promise we won't do it again."

"It wasn't that bad. He's...decent."

"He's really not, anyway I need to...go," she points up the street before falling into another lip-lock, this time incessantly dueling her tongue with his right out on the open street. Something about Wyatt makes her want to disprove anything he could possibly be thinking. "Bye."

"See you tonight, 8 o'clock. Look sharp," he warns jokingly.

"I always look sharp," Addison laughs and saunters back toward the building with a ten gallon bucket of cement sitting in her stomach. He'll run out of ways to outdo himself sooner or later and she's genuinely afraid of what happens when he realizes that. For now, all she can do is ride the choppy waves.

"Monty, pleasure," Wyatt remarks as she joins him in the elevator again. If she didn't know better, she'd say he waited for her on purpose. "Nice guy."

"He really is," she asserts pouting.

"Shame he's a cop," he shakes his head. "How do you deal with not knowing whether or not he'll wind up in the hospital potentially half dead every night?"

"None of your business," she points out as the machinery finally grinds to a halt but the doors don't fly open so she can shove him out on his face. She looks from right to left, curses the elevator gods and then finally breaks down, "We're stuck. Great."

"I can think of worse people to be stuck with," Wyatt admits.

"Funny, I can't."

"Oh, you're a barrel of tacks today Monty. Feisty, I like that." Wyatt chuckles under his breath and undoes the center button of his jacket, letting his body sink to the ground.

Addison groans something nonverbal and claws her scalp furiously, trying by sheer force of will to get the damn thing started again.

"You shouldn't do that, you have nice hair," Wyatt says softly, not quite willing to surrender the calm, vulnerable air they have amassed.

"I'm not complimenting you back. Your ego may very well explode," Addison gives up, dropping her purse and finds the most proper route to the ground, choosing the same wall so he can't even begin to daydream about what's up her tight gray skirt.

"You don't know me at all, and yet you feel the need to make that call. What is that? Do you always assume the worst in someone as competent as you? Is that what the cop thing is about?" he grins, knowingly striking a cord she doesn't want to deal with. "Silent treatment won't work on me."

"Shut up." Addison throws her head back against the wood panel and stares at the ceiling.

"Claustrophobic?"

"Not at all. This isn't exactly an ideal situation-"

"I think it is. It's like an unexpected break in the day."

"I have patients," Addison snaps back, folding her hands into her lap and trying not to fidget.

"I have more," Wyatt smiles cheekily. "You know Monty, we'd be a helluva team. My know how, you're alleged skills."

"Alleged?" Addison thinks that is the one thing in the whole world that should be proven fact.

"I've never seen you in action but I'm willing to take Naomi's word for it. She thinks very highly of you."

"As I do of her," Addison comments, fighting an urge to begin ripping her cuticles.

"Must be nice," Wyatt laments.

"What?"

"To not have everyone hate you because you're better than them," he clarifies and sighs when the elevator groans and a fuzzy voice comes over the intercom informing them that it'll only be a few more minutes, and then apologizes.

"That's not why I hate you," Addison replies, taking the hint.

"Do tell," Wyatt pushes.

"You're smug and conceited. You don't accept anyone else's truths as relevant and you act without common regard for the others around you. That's why I hate you, but that's just me."

"I don't sound all that horrible if you really think about it."

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

He takes her go-kart racing again after dinner. They take a whirl on the Ferris Wheel, childishly sneaking kisses from high vantage points and he even buys a stick of pink spun sugar, watching as she hums when it hits her tongue. They peruse the boardwalk, taking in the occasion passerby, and finally settle on a grungy, germ covered bench to take respite from all the adventure. It was fun the first time, to watch her squeal with delight and astonishment, to tease her about where she's from and why she hadn't really lived yet. To see the sparkle in her eye as she first learned the magic of cotton candy and how sick it can make you feel after eating an entire bag, to hold her hand as she watched the pier lights in amazement from scary heights.

It's different now. She hasn't done these things because she's above them and no one ever gave her silly carnival food because no one ever took her to a silly carnival and part of him wonders just how much of this is candid and how much is for show. "Addison?"

"Yes," she giggles into his shoulder, breeze catching her short hair and blowing it into her eyes.

He brushes it back, kisses the bridge of her nose and retreats. "Nothing."

"No, what?" she asks, concerned by how he's been holding out all evening. First, during appetizers, then the car ride here and now.

"It's taking a long time to pass is all," he frowns and then strokes her thigh, glancing out beyond the hurried nature and into the dark.

"It's gotten better," she argues, alarmed and afraid.

"It's never going to be the same."

"What are you saying?" she dares, voice higher than it should be, heart picking up intensity, prepared for battle.

"I'm not saying anything." He throws his hands into the air and stands up.

"Kevin," she states, voice betraying her more with each syllable that leaves her mouth.

"God, this was so much better when I thought...when I didn't...know...anything," about you, he adds silently.

She tugs on his hand, pulling him down to the bench, doing the only thing she can. "I have a trust fund-"

"I know," he moans pathetically into his hands, the cool hands he stole back and covered his miserable face with.

"I don't use it," she informs him, relieved when he looks up. "I didn't pay for college or med school and I've never had a job outside of my chosen career but...I work hard Kevin, and I've done well for myself. And, maybe yes, I did start out with an unfair advantage but I don't use that anymore. I like go-karts and cotton candy and I also enjoy overpriced Italian shoes and expensive wine. I know they don't go together but I can't help that." She bites her bottom lip harshly, creating a divot that will last the night, when the tears threaten to leak out. "My world isn't dinner parties and exotic travels for fun. I work because I want to, because I want to help people, and I want to be with you."

He wipes the trail of water off her cheek with his palm before skimming the surface with his lips. Every time she talks about it, grudgingly he can sense, he feels like an absolute jerk. Because she cries and because it's not her fault he feels inadequate. It's his. "I'm sorry. I don't know what my problem is. Come 'ere." He pats his lap and she organizes herself on top of him, still aware they are in public and merely finds the special spot his body seemed to have carved out for her head.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," she whispers. "I didn't think we were in that place yet frankly...and it's rather irrelevant to me."

"We did kind of get shoved into this serious...ness," he grins, rubbing her back lightly. "I blame Archer."

"Works for me," she chuckles and then scurries off of him once she's stable. "I have an idea."

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"Addison." Kevin stands, blocking his locked door. "I don't think this is such a good idea."

"It's fine. You'd be surprised what squalor I've seen."

He turns, placing the key in the slot and holds his breath. She'll be nice no matter what, that's just a given but it's the judging he's afraid of. The wordless thoughts that weigh out unevenly against him. He holds the wooden door open for her and flicks on the entry light switch.

Addison smiles reassuringly and adjust her purse against her shoulder as he gives permission to observe. She tours the living room, small but tidy kitchen, the backyard (beautifully fenced and landscaped by the man behind her), and then wanders down the short hallway to the bedroom. She kicks out of her heels and is out of her dress by the time Kevin catches up.

"You think you can just get naked in my room?"

"Do you propose another location?" she questions, padding across the hardwood floor to the mostly devoid bathroom. She pushes the shower door open, noting how it kind of reminds her of the wretched trailer in the woods, and flips on the water. "Joining me?" she calls out cautiously.

He falters for only a moment, staring at the soft pooling material of her bright blue outfit, before casually walking into his own bathroom and trying not to think how out of place the woman in his shower presently looks. "Absolutely."

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

All in all it really wasn't that bad, Addison knows this. It was small but clean. Simple and classic. Matching furniture and kitchen plates, much unlike the bachelor pad she inhabited all those years ago. She's lived in worse but she'd still rather wake up in her own bed, way across town, and enjoy a specially brewed cup of coffee instead of the Folgers in her plain white mug. She'd prefer not to smell of normal bar soap and to not be forced to do the walk of shame this morning with last night's date clothes on. She supposes she should be thankful for the small things, like carrying makeup backup in her car, and at least having the presence of mind to not go out in her work clothes with Kevin.

It's about the little things today.

"Headed somewhere Monty?" Wyatt asks, waiting in line for his routine Cafe Breva, eyes wandering all over her tight form.

"Coffee," Addison mumbles, still half awake from the crap job the other caffeine managed to do.

"My treat," Wyatt demands and orders for her before she can respond. He directs her two feet to the left to pick up their order. "Late night with the cop?"

"Don't you ever get tired of this?" she asks crankily.

"Nope," he grins and taps the polished floor impatiently. "Your floor doesn't make coffee?"

"Wasn't in the mood. Why aren't you at that...coffee bar?" She scrubs her eyes, bleary and angry at her for spending so much time in the valley smog.

"Not my thing," Wyatt reveals and swipes her iced Americano off the counter when it comes, thoughtfully slipping on a cardboard sleeve before realizing that it won't burn her precious hands.

She sips it blindly expecting scorching liquid and contorts her face in dismay when she comes up with coolness. "Do I strike you as the type of individual who likes cold coffee?"

"You strike me as the type of individual who needs a change," he recovers smartly and grabs his to-go cup, steering her out of the store.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

"How has it been going?" Violet asks, perched in her chair, blinds drawn against the surely dark office.

"Okay," Kevin nods. "What's wrong with me?"

"What's wrong with you?" Violet asks back.

"Why can't I just get over this. It's not her fault. None of it...and yet...I hate her a little."

"What's not her fault Kevin?" Violet questions, trying to get him to come back from his trance.

"She said she loves me, she was lying, but she said it," he wobbles his head from side to side trying to figure out what it means. "I could see myself with her in a way. Down the road. The kids, the dog, and the vacations and whatever. But then...I don't sometimes and I blame her...it's easy."

"Blame her for what?" Violet repeats like a broken record. Some days she is nothing more than a brick wall people talk at.

"She's hot. When I saw her, I mean there is no denying that...but there was something else. She was so good about the whole thing and the way she laughed. I don't know. After I lost my partner...it was nice. It's nice."

"You lost your partner?"

"Been little over a year," he replies for the first time. "We were together for a while...now I'm S.W.A.T."

"You switched because-"

"No," Kevin laughs in earnest. "I switched because it was offered. Pay is better, hours are much worse but it's different. It's good. I like it for the most part, I mean as much as one can like that sort of thing."

"Oh, good," Violet remarks and scribbles a little flower out on her paper, wanting to pay attention but almost not caring. She's merely a fixture in this setting anyway.

Kevin falls quiet. It's really quite ridiculous that he's here but the guys would all tell him to leave her or to keep her around for sex and it's not what he wants to hear. "How long do you wait for it to pass before you give up?"

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**

Addison swirls the red fluid around her clear glass contemplatively. There's really no one to go to. Naomi has said her peace, Sam shouldn't be involved and that's kind of her short list of friends. She dials the numbers again, wanting him to pick up but mostly wishing for voicemail, and then hangs up before either opportunity has a chance. She sips again, and wanders off her deck into the sand.

On one hand she can't really understand why she'd be fighting so hard if this wasn't worth it, but conversely, she also realizes that her dwindling personal resources are probably the reason for clinging. Kevin, with all of their new dysfunctional issues, is still better than being alone. But that doesn't make it right; doesn't mean he's anymore the one for her than stupid Wyatt Lockhart downstairs.

So Addison buries her feet in the tiny granules she'll despise in a short moment's time and falls back on the one thing she still sort of believes in - the ability to overcome.

**_~-~-~-~-~-~_**


End file.
